


Dipped in Gold

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: M/M, king AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When King Michael becomes too bloodthirsty for his own good, his counsel go to find Geoff Ramsey, a legendary advisor, in hope that maybe he can quell the young King's malicious behaviour.  Nobody is quite sure how he does it, but not a single man in the realm could say his methods aren't effective. (King AU, Slow burn)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sab (holyshitryan.tumblr.com) and Tab (haywoodvevo.tumblr.com) writing duo coming at you. Sab wrote up to the_______ and then it’s me ayy. This is based off Melissa’s (vavxray.tumblr.com) post here (vavxray.tumblr.com/post/107739997123/um-hello-just-hear-me-out-ok-more-ok-so). If you want to see some really cool posts based off this au then make sure to check out her Dipped in Gold tag (vavxray.tumblr.com/tagged/dipped%20in%20gold)!!

There was a thick feeling of dread that settles among the crowd, a dark set of clouds even passed over the burning sun as if to hide it from the scene it was looming over.

From right to left, the four advisors stood beside the king. All have different expressions plastered on their faces. Of course, they would do anything to put an end to what is unfolding before them, but they all know better. Still, General Haywood, the man charge of keeping the kings men alive, throws a stern look over at Jack, in hopes of the man stepping in and putting a stop to it all.

They have a mental battle, one Jack tries to win, but Haywood's eyes are piercing and bright. Jack never stood a chance.

He clears his throat.

"My Lord?" Jack's voice is loud and clear, and cuts through the dense air around them.

The King almost doesn't register that he has been spoken to, too enthralled by what he has created. There is a look that no one can place (or no one wants to address) in his wide, brown eyes. It is only when Jack clears his throat again that King Mogar lays those eyes on Jack.

"What," it is not said as a question, and instead comes across as a demand to know why there was an interruption. Jack knows better than to falter, even when Mogar's cold gaze cuts through him like a hot-iron knife.

"My Lord, I must ask you again, do you truly think it is necessary to carry out as you have been? This man has a family, a wife and three children," Jack tries, using the voice he would use on the King when he was a child, calm yet stern.

"What is your point? The man has stolen from me. From my family. And you think I care about him going home to his?" the King doesn't even hesitate, even cocks a thin eyebrow at his Second In Command.

At this, the man accused speaks up. Everyone, from General Haywood to the last peasant who has gathered to the town square, visibly stiffens.

"My Liege, I swear on all the gods that watch over us, that I have never stolen anything in my life. I have pledged my allegiance to you, and only you. I would never steal from you," and the way the man speaks, it is almost hard to watch. The last ditch effort of a man with everything to lose.

King Mogar holds Jack's gaze for a moment longer before eerily turning to look at the prisoner. He used to be a chef for Mogar's father, and was well liked among the people. He often gave to those who had none, just small loaves of bread here and there, nothing more. But it was enough to fill the people's hearts with gratitude and hope. Honestly, Mogar had grown tired of the man. He was old, could barely make a decent meal anymore. The King needed an excuse to have him gone, and he had found it.

Mogar's lips curve into a small smile and he stands and walks down the velvet carpeted steps of his throne. The man begins to shake, fear overtaking every fiber of his being. The sight of him only fuels Mogar on further. His heavy footsteps echo throughout the square, providing an eerie contrast to the man's whimpering cries.

Once he's close enough to touch, he runs his calloused hand through the old man's balding head, the small smile still plastered across his face. To others, the smile may have been seen as charming, forgiving. But to the four men standing besides Mogar's throne, it was vile, vicious.

"Let it be known to all in the kingdom!" Mogar's voice is thunderous as he speaks. "If any of you even think of stealing from the King, your King Mogar, I want you to remember this day. Remember this man."

Mogar removes his sword from its sheath, and the notorious diamond sword almost shines in the light. Among the specks of blood that still cover the sword's tip, there is the engraving of the House of Bears. Mogar runs his fingers across it, before placing the tip under the man's chin.

"Say your prayers, old man."

"My Lord, My Liege, please, I am begging you--"

The sound of a blade piercing the air cuts off the man's cries, followed quickly by two dull thuds.

Mogar sheaths his sword. The crowd disperses. Not a single word is uttered, and the day goes on.

...  
Michael Jones was not always terrible. All his advisors try to keep that in mind as they make their way back to the castle.

His parents were some of the best rulers the kingdom has ever seen. There had been good Jones’ and bad Jones’ but Michael’s parents had been some of the greatest Jones’. They did everything that good rulers should do. The King always did daily tours of his kingdom, to make sure everything was in order, and the Queen stayed at the castle and made sure that everything stayed perfect. It was one of the first times the kingdom had seen such a powerful Queen and the people loved her. 

It was around the time that Michael was born that the King and Queen decided to hire some advisors. The King had always had close ties with the Pattillo family, so it was no surprise that Jack, the eldest son, would be the King’s closest advisor. He had several strategies in mind for keeping peace within the kingdom and making sure the economy remained stable. Jack was never a violent man, and had kindly confessed to his King that he knew very little of the practice of war. For that, the King sought out the infamous General Ryan Haywood who had lived secluded in the woods for many years. He was lured in with the promise of having all the wildlife he could get his hands on, which of course, seemed strange to the King and his wife, but they tried not to question it. 

The reason why they wanted these new advisors was because their child was the only thing that was occupying their minds. They wanted the little prince to be the best he could be. It was Jack who suggested that they find a companion for the young boy once he turned 3. He claimed it would be best if he had some company. It was on that same day that the Queen found a small, dirty boy wearing the skins of a Creeper running around the castle’s exterior. She had asked him where his parents were and, in an accent that she recognized from the North, he responded by saying they had been killed. He then smiled a toothy grin; one that melted the Queen’s heart.

Gavin and Michael became the best of friends, even so far as regarding each other as brother. It was Gavin who christened Michael with the warrior name of Mogar when they were practicing their sword fighting. General Haywood smiled at them, unaware of how many people would come to hate that name. 

Ray Narvaez Jr, son of the Rose King, had become one of the last main advisors of the King and Queen. He was only 10 at the time, but the King was fulfilling a favor for the king of Roses. He was no longer able to take care of Ray, and promised that once he was of age, Ray would make a fine agricultural advisor. Until then, Ray joined Michael and Gavin’s small little family. 

For many years, the kingdom was at peace. In fact, it was the longest period of peace the kingdom had ever seen. That was, until, the Great Fire. It is still unclear of how the fire started, but it was very clear of how it ended. It had taken the lives of the King and Queen, leaving an 11 year old Michael Jones without parents. 

All of the advisors, from the oldest to the youngest, noticed a change in Michael. He was no longer the giggly, happy-go-lucky kid that had grown up within the castle walls. Soon after the funeral for his parents, he was crowned King, which, being the only heir to the throne, was normal. Even still, the kingdom grew worried about what would happen now that a child was their ruler. This forced Michael to mature very quickly, which drained the last ounce of childlike wonder out of him. 

It is hard to pinpoint when exactly Michael began to rule ruthlessly. It may have been when he forced people to call him by his warrior name, King Mogar, instead of Michael, or maybe it was when he held his first duel in the town square. Either way, Michael began to shut people out. He started making moves on his own instead of listening to Ryan and Jack. He stole from neighboring kingdoms and had his army slaughter anyone who tried to fight back. He nearly destroyed the economy by nearly taking all of the valuable minerals found in the mines for himself. He even turned the castle’s garden, a source of tranquility for the people, and Ray’s pride and joy, into a graveyard for the severed heads of his opponents, set on large pikes for all to see.

It had been Ryan who tried to talk some sense into the King around his 16th birthday. King Mogar wanted a large fire set in one of the smaller towns, and he wanted Ryan’s army to do it where he could view it from his quarters. Up until this point, no one had opposed Michael’s ridiculous orders, but Ryan had had enough. 

“Michael, you are sixteen now. You can’t continue doing what you’re doing to this kingdom!” Ryan had said, standing up from his spot at the table where they were meeting. 

Gavin yelped from his spot on Michael’s side, and Jack shifted his weight. Ray’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and for a few long seconds, all was quiet. 

Finally, Michael spoke. 

“Ryan, there are several reasons why I am not going to kill you. All of which are greatly inferior to the reasons why I should kill you, but I digress. Now, the next time you speak out of turn, or even think about raising your voice at me, your King, I will have your pretty little head added to my lovely collection of heads in the back garden. Do I make myself clear?”

Although he was smiling, there was no hint of mirth in Michael’s eyes. There was a strange disconnect that Ryan feared more than Michael’s silly threat. He wondered if Michael’s parents could see what a monster their son had become. If they were weeping from their ashy grave. 

Ryan sat down, crossed his hands, and nodded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Michael sneered, resting his chin under his palm and leaning forward. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”  
Ryan felt his jaw clench, and he counted to ten in his head. 

“Yes, My Liege. I will not do it again.”

“Excellent. Now, round up the troops. I want this fire started at sundown. Make sure the entire kingdom is awake to enjoy the show.”

And that is usually how it went. The advisors and Gavin, who didn’t do much but entertain Michael, had learned to keep their mouths shut unless spoken to. Whenever they tried to make Michael see to his evil ways, they were punished, or humiliated in front of everyone.

Something needed to be done.  
...  
“That’s the tenth public execution this month,” Ray mutters once they are in the privacy of Ryan’s private study. It was a wonder Michael let him keep it, seeing as Ryan was probably the advisor he liked the least. 

“You think I haven’t been counting?” Ryan snaps back, nearly throwing himself in his desk chair with a groan. 

“I’ve been making my way ‘round. The people are even scared to bloody blink out of line. The military guards that you’ve got stationed there have got them scared shitless,” Gavin says. He tries to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice, but it slips out anyway, and he is not surprised by Ryan’s glare. 

“It isn’t his fault, Gavin,” Jack says, crossing the room to stand by Ryan’s side. “I’m pretty sure if Ryan could object to it, he would.”

“Sure, the “Mad General” would object to murdering a few dozen innocent people,” Gavin responds, this time earning a mean glare from Ray.

“You may find this hard to believe, but Michael has taken the fun out of murder,” Ryan concedes, burying his face in his hands with a sigh. 

“Look, this is not about whether or not Ryan is crazy or not. It’s about the fact that Michael is going to end up killing the entire kingdom, village by village, unless we stop him,” Ray can hear the defeat in his voice as the words leave his lips. 

The other three men nod in agreement, but they seem just as hopeless as Ray does. They had run out of ideas, and it had come to the point where Michael was simply ignoring them when they even tried speaking to him. The fact that he even addressed Jack at the public execution was a miracle in itself. 

The room is silent for a while as they all rack their brains for some sort of epiphany. Finally, Ryan slowly lifts his head from his hands and stands up, surprising everyone in the room. 

“Maybe what Michael needs is a change of scenery,” he says as he begins to pace the room. Ray scoffs and Gavin looks incredulous. 

“What, you want to send him on a fuckin’ five star vacation?” Ray asks, getting a chuckle out of Gavin and another one of Ryan’s infamous glares. 

“No, asshole. I mean…we should hire another advisor,” he stops pacing to read the faces of his comrades. 

Jack is the first to speak up.

“No one in the kingdom is going to want to come work for King Mogar, the one who kills women, children, and the elderly for fun. No matter how much we pay ‘em,” he says with a frown. 

“But what if we get someone from outside the kingdom,” Ryan presses on, and this causes Jack to pause and scratch at his beard in thought. 

“Doesn’t everyone across the goddamn country know that Michael is a psychopath? Who the fuck is gonna want to leave their normal kingdom to come here?” Ray asks, the brown eyes hiding behind his glasses squinted in question. 

Ryan crosses to Ray and smiles, even pats his head in a way that he knows Ray hates.

“You see, a long time ago, before I came to work for the King and Queen, I lived in the woods, coming and going wherever I pleased. I would go into random kingdoms to meet women, steal from their husbands, and generally piss of their rulers. Anyway, one day, this guy barges into my cabin and demands that I stop. Except, he didn’t seem to mean it? Like, this guy was one of the most relaxed warriors I had ever met. He was covered in tattoos that he didn’t bother to hide with armor, and he had this lazy look in his eyes that I had never seen before. Of course, being younger and stupid, I felt insulted that he would dare try to stop me, so I demanded to know who he served. And he told me, King Burns.

I proceeded to challenge him to a duel, which he fuckin’ shrugged at, which pissed me off even more. Long story short, he kicked my ass, and has been the only person to do so,” Ryan explains, smiling at the memory.

“Okay. So?” Gavin asks impatiently. 

“So, this guy, Geoff Ramsey, is not scared of anything. He is King Burns’ second in command, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Burns is one of the greatest kings in the country. I’m positive that Geoff is the reason why,” Ryan says matter-of-factly, as if he’s just solved the hardest equation in the world. 

“So you’re saying that we get this Geoff guy from Burns and bring him here to whip Michael’s ass into shape?” asks Ray, who is honestly already on board with the idea. 

“Pretty much,” Ryan says with a shrug.

“What if Burns isn’t willing to give up one of his greatest advisors?” Jack speaks up after being quiet for so long, startling Gavin who had almost forgotten he was there. 

“Burns is already an older guy. He knows what he has to do, and honestly, he probably only keeps Geoff around because they’re best friends. Plus, every ruler in the country is at least a little scared of King Mogar, and whether or not he’ll declare war just for the hell of it. If he can help in teaching Michael how to mellow out, I have no doubt that he’ll hand Geoff over happily,” Ryan responds. The room falls silent once more as everyone contemplates this new plan. 

Gavin gulps as he comes to a realization. 

“How do we tell Michael?”

Ryan answers, “we won’t. I’m going to leave as soon as the sun goes down to Burns’ kingdom. Michael probably won’t even notice I’m gone. He might not be open to the idea of a new second hand, but he will sure as hell get used to it.”

Ray stands at that.

“You’re not going alone. There are monsters nearby, and you can’t handle them by yourself, especially at night. I’ll go with you, Michael hasn’t acknowledged my presence since we turned 21,” he says.

Ryan frowns at that, but nods. He knows that Ray and Michael had been really close at some point, maybe even closer than Michael was to Gavin. But just like everything else, that relationship had long been destroyed. 

“So everyone clear on the plan?” Ryan asks one last time, just for good measure. They all nod, and just as they do, there is a knock on the door. 

“Pardon me, sirs, but King Mogar is requesting that he have his sword cleaned of all bloodstains. He wants one of you to do it,” comes the timid voice from beyond the door. 

Jack sighs and excuses himself, but before he leaves, he turns back to Ryan and Ray. 

“Don’t wait for the sun to go down. Leave now. The sooner Geoff gets here, the better.”  
______________  
The night was appropriately clear for a new beginning; A smouldering darkness trickling into a misted white with constellations as bright as the torch light that lit their surroundings.  
It swelled something deep in Ryan’s iron covered chest. Perhaps it could be described as hope, a dirty four letter word that he rarely used these days, but the task was still yet to be done. Convincing Geoff to come to the House of Bears would not be a simple feat, but Ryan had dealt with worse - he was certain he could convince the man to help salvage the young king. That’s what he told himself at least as he mounted his steed with the Agriculture adviser at his side.

“King Burns’ kingdom is not far. If all goes well, we should return by late afternoon.” Ray simply nodded in reply while absentmindedly fidgeting with the mare’s bridal.  
With night quickly settling around them and precious time being lost, the younger man’s uncharacteristic nervous actions struck Ryan with a sense of irritation.  
“Would you stop that and get your horse?” He commanded, somewhat angry with Ray’s seemingly leisurely attitude. The general was not unused to his laid back inclinations but acting on such tendencies during a remarkably crucial and delicate time, with the future of the kingdom hanging in the balance, was blatantly irresponsible in Ryan’s eyes. 

Instead of slinking into the stables like he had expected, Ray’s cheeks flushed the same colour as the ever-present rose pinned to his armour. “I… Uh, don’t have one.” His brown eyes remained downcast, refusing to meet Ryan’s steel, accusatory gaze.  
“What on earth are you talking about?” His tone oozed impatience.  
“I said…” The boy shifted his weight between his feet before reluctantly staring up at the imposing figure atop of the black mare. “I don’t have one, alright?” He tumbled out the words so quickly that it took a second for Ryan to realise what he had said. “There, you happy? I never learnt. Too busy learning about crops and shit.”

Despite himself, a grin crept onto Ryan’s features. “It’s not exactly hard.” He lifted his gloved hands as if to show him. “Look, you sit on the saddle, and hold the reins like this-”  
“Yeah yeah asshole, I get it. I don’t like horses either. There’s nothing wrong with my legs, so I’ll fuckin’ use them.”  
“Not now you won’t. There’s not enough time. King Burns’ kingdom is days on foot, but only hours if we move fast enough on horseback.”  
Ryan looked up to the thick pine forests in front of them as if the answers to their prayers would lie in their bark. After a moment, he held his leather clad hand out to the red-faced adviser.  
With a swift movement, Ray was hiked up onto the back of the saddle, and quickly sunk his hands into the rough material to keep from toppling over. 

“You ready?” Ryan asked, his voice taking that same determined tone as when he was addressing the King’s men.  
“If I said no?” He replied. The hint of a smile that situated itself on his lips felt so foreign in the depth of such a despairing time.  
A crack of reins slapped against the steed’s neck rang out through the courtyard as the pair sped off into the woods. 

...

The sight of the stone-laid kingdom brought a weight off Ryan’s shoulders. Finally. After a night of close calls and narrowly escaping arrowheads, they had arrived.  
The early morning sun glinted off the trickling river that ran through the sturdy cobblestone wall - a scene of tranquility and welcoming. The image was so strange to the sandy haired man that he almost started to doubt if this was a good idea. Has he become so desensitised to king Mogar’s violence that an inviting entrance, completely free of disembodied limbs, was suspicious? He pushed the thought out of his mind as he approached the portcullis. 

“State your business.” A guard called from beyond the iron chinks. His tone and overall mannerisms lacked any sort of authority and held no threat to them at all. If he were one of Ryan’s men, he would probably be reprimanded immediately.  
“I am general Haywood of House …” He hesitated for a moment and considered his options. If he stated his true House, the House of Bears, this man may not allow them to enter in fear of king Mogar.  
“The House of Rosa.”  
Ray notably stiffened behind him, talk of his birth House striking him by surprise. The guard paid no heed to his behaviour though.  
“I’m here to arrange a meeting with your king. Make sure his closest advisor is present, also.”  
His reply was the groaning of chains as the portcullis was yanked up into the air. 

It was hard to believe a kingdom could be so lively. Both men had long forgotten what that kind of atmosphere felt like. Ryan once knew that feeling under the rule of Michael’s parents… but Ray, he had never even known such a place could exist. 

The streets were bustling with life and laughter. Children ran alongside the cobbled streets, shrieking as they tugged on each other’s clothes. In the distance a market could be seen, various people yelling various prices around. There was such a sense of ease and relaxation. It felt like someone had smacked Ray across the face. He hadn’t even realised how bad things had gotten, seeing as they were all he had known.

“You think Geoff can make Mogar’s kingdom like this?”  
Ryan only nodded twice in response.  
“Then if he doesn’t agree, we’re tying him to the horse and dragging him back.”

...  
Standing outside the large oaken doors of the king’s court, the severity of their situation suddenly overwhelmed Ryan. His blue eyes followed the intricate carvings of the door to distract himself from the dread and doubt seeping from the murkiest corners of his mind.  
This was their last chance. He wasn’t even about to consider what would happen to the kingdom and everyone in it if Michael was left to do his bidding.  
A squire snapped Ryan from his thoughts. “The king will see you now.”  
The pair glanced at one another, their gazes resolute, before stepping past the doors. 

The throne room was not at all as lavish as Ryan had expected it to be. In fact, it was lacking in all finery. Wood carved with delicate embellishments decorated the large room in a way he suspected that jewels and gold may never be able to. From simple spirals to grand recreations of ancient battles; it was almost breathtaking.  
The most astonishing piece was the throne that king Burns was sat atop of. Not truly a throne, but the largest oak tree that he had seen in his entire life. The roots scattered around the floor yet still left a very precise path up to the throne.  
There was something humbling about not seeing a single speck of gold and instead simple materials although the man could easily pour all the kingdom’s income into making the most intimidating throne room known to man. 

“We come with troubling news.” Ryan began, slightly tremulous as his mind whirred with different speeches he could use to attempt to gain the king’s favour. 

“I know you.” Geoff interrupted immediately. “What happened? Did you get your ass handed to you again?” His eyes glinted with brazen amusement at the man in front of him. 

“I’m afraid it’s something far worse.” 

“Troubling news from the House of Rosa? Everything was just fine when I visited last.” King Burns paused for a moment, his eyes glancing over the men before him once, then twice. “I don’t recall seeing either of you two while there, however.” 

“Ah, actually.” Ray interjected as apprehensive energy radiated off of him. “The House of Rosa is my birth house, but we serve the House of Bears.” 

A tense silence followed. 

“I do not appreciate being lied to, gentlemen.” 

“My sincerest apologies, my lord. Truly. But we simply could not risk being turned away from your gates.” Ryan sucked in a deep breath before continuing. This was it.  
“You must know of Michael’s unnecessarily destructive ways. If nothing is done to stop him, then I fear- No, I am certain that he will declare war on the Seven Kingdoms.” 

King Burns seemed to mull this over for a moment while scratching at the stubble covering his chin. “Are you suggesting I declare war on one of the most powerful kings in the Seven Kingdoms?”  


“No.” Ray gasped quickly. “No, not at all.”

“He is simply a misguided child.” Ryan explained with a degree of urgency to his voice. “Michael has grown tired of his current advisors, Ray and I among others, and we think that perhaps a stronger voice is needed to force him to see reason.” His eyes drifted over to the sleepy eyed man standing next to the king’s throne that had remained silent all this time. 

Geoff sighed heavily before looking up to his king. “Well? What d’you think?” 

If the tales of king Mogar whispered by fools in taverns were anywhere near the vicinity of true, and king Burns decided not to send the best advisor the Seven Kingdoms had ever known, then he would be responsible for whatever events were to unfold if he remained neutral. 

“Very well.”

“That’s it?” Geoff burst out suddenly, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “You hear a five minute long plea and I’m off to wipe the snot off some brat’s nose? Fuck no.”  
Ryan open his mouth to defend their point, but he was quickly shut down. “Fucking. No. I’m almost retired! I’m too old for this crap. Burns, tell ‘em.”

Amusement played on the king’s lips as his close friend became undone. “Now now, Ramsey. Weren’t you just saying that you were tired of having such a stable kingdom? It looks to me like opportunity is knocking.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ mean it! I take it back, I’m fine living in this perfectly non-bloodthirsty morcharch led kingdom. All good here.” The way he crossed his arms over his chest reminded Ryan somewhat of a defiant child. 

“You don’t understand.” Ray said softly, the thought of being turned away now chilled him to his core. “If you don’t come back with us, we’re all going to die.” He had fooled himself in the darkness of denial that Michael, the boy he use to be able to call his best friend, would never do such a thing to them. To him.  
But recent events made it painstakingly obvious that he was completely capable of throwing their corpses aside like a worthless wet cloth.

The pleading look in the young man’s eyes tugged on Geoff’s heart strings in way he would never admit aloud. “This the House of Bears that burnt to the ground and left a kid to care for it?”

“The very same.” Ryan quipped.

“And now this kid is a full grown psychopath?”  
“I’d go with homicidal maniac, but psychopath works too.”

With a defeated shrug of his shoulders, Geoff relented. “I suppose a few months wouldn’t hurt anything.”  
...

They were both insignificant bastards. That’s what Michael continually told himself as he stormed through the corridors of his castle with nothing but the echoing sound of his own footsteps to distract him from his thoughts.  
They really thought he wouldn’t notice that two of his ‘advisors’ had left the kingdom? Little did they know, he had eyes and ears covering every single inch of his land. Nobody even pissed without Michael knowing about it.  
It made knowing who to execute a great deal easier. (Not that he needed a reason to see heads roll.)  
He would see that the two of them were bloody and bruised by the time the sun sank under the hills. He’d show them just what would happen when you crossed-

In his blind rage, his feet had taken him down the corridor he had always avoided ever since he was 11 years old.  
Amber eyes met the tapestry.  
THE tapestry.  
The one that depicted such a sweet, happy yet powerful family. So full of promise. So full of tragedy. 

The mere sight of his parents brought him to his knees. 

The fiery shade of his mother’s hair. The famous bear-like grin of his father.  
It was all too fresh in his mind. No matter how far he shoved the images and memories to the furthest corner of his subconscious, this one damn piece of cloth brought them all back to the surface. 

Immediately after the fire, Michael commanded that it was to be burnt. ‘They burned.’ His 11 year old self had said. ‘So the tapestry shall too.’ It was Jack that put his foot down and said no. The king and queen have to be remembered, he had said. Their tales must be told, their faces memorised, and that is how they continue to live forever, he had told the young king. 

He didn’t want them to live forever. That was a lie. They were dead. Burned alive.  
A part of Michael had burned up with them that day. 

He wondered if they would shudder to look at him now. See the blood on his hands and turned away from him in shame.  
His mother would sob. His father would glare.  
A sudden pain gripped at his stomach, like the time where Gavin had playfully punched him too hard, and sent him flying forward in shock with an anguished cry. The golden crown fell from his head and skittered to the base of the woven picture of the fallen monarchs with a hard clink.  
Sweat stuck his auburn curls to his forehead, yet the cool tiled flooring did little to sooth his mind. 

“Please.” A sob tore from his throat as his fingers clawed at his chest, desperately trying to rid himself of the despair growing there. “Please, leave me be.” He begged the tapestry, a vulnerability never before heard by anybody.  
He could feel it seeping into his bones like the plague. That helplessness. That disgusting, pitiful helplessness. He despised it.

The first day, when that weakness crept into his being, he declared that all must address him by his warrior name: Mogar.  
Never Michael.  
Michael was the boy that ran to his mother after a nightmare of bloodshed.  
Michael was the boy that trained with wooden swords in the palace gardens.  
Michael was dead with his parents.  
He was Mogar from that day forward. 

There was only one way to banish the hateful feeling of weakness from his body. 

Purposefully, he rose from his knees. He didn’t glance up at his parent’s faces as he picked up his crown. He simply placed the gold on his head with his chin raised high.  
He pretended that his eyes didn’t sting; that the salt water on his lips was nonexistent. 

Michael may have slipped out for but a moment but Mogar was firmly in control once again.

With deliberate steps, he strode out the castle to find Gavin.  
Carnage always set his mind at ease during times like these.


	2. Chapter 2

There were three knocks at his chamber door, loud and demanding. The sudden sound startled Gavin out his train of thought; he had been pacing back and forth around his room, praying and hoping that Ryan and Ray had been successful in finding the mysterious man from Burnie’s kingdom. They had left before the sun had gone down, but it was now noon, and Ryan’s horse was nowhere to be seen. Gavin felt his nerves rise up in his throat, and the familiar feeling of anxiety tickled his arms as the knocking grew louder. Jack would never knock so harshly, and any other servant has been trained to be fearful of any authority figure, so they wouldn’t dare knock more than once. Swallowing whatever was trying to escape his stomach, Gavin made his way to his door and pulled it open. 

He barely had the time to greet his King before the curly haired ruler had a hand clasped around his throat. Gavin squawked in surprise, stumbling back a few paces before being trapped between Michael and the wall.

“Do you take me for a fool, Gavin?” he asked, his voice devoid of any kind of emotion. The lack of animation in his tone shook Gavin to his core. 

He would have answered, but the hand gripping his neck made it clear that for now, talking was not an option. He simply shook his head as best he could, given his circumstance. 

“If that is the case, then why have I gotten word that Ryan and Ray have left the walls of the kingdom without my permission?” the grip around his throat seemed to get tighter with every word, and Gavin could see stars playing across his vision. He tried to beg with large hazel eyes, tried to get Michael to see that he was squeezing life out of him. The King sneered, before relenting and letting go. Gavin fell to his knees, coughing and trying to compensate for the lack of oxygen by swallowing large breaths of air. Michael…Mogar, however, wasn’t finished speaking. 

“Answer my question,” he demanded, staring down at his former friend with brown eyes filled to the brim with seething hatred, or at least, that is what Gavin saw. No sign of life, only hate. 

“I…I believe they left on an urgent mission…to retrieve a package from a small village just on the outskirts of the kingdom," Gavin wheezed, unable to meet Michael's hard gaze and instead fixing his eyes to the stone floor.

Still, Michael seemed to relent a bit, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Is that so? What kind of package?"

It was in that moment that a servant knocked gently on Gavin's slightly open door.

"My Liege, General Haywood and Sir Narvaez have returned," Gavin physically perked up at the announcement and Michael simply rolled his eyes. 

"Great. I'll have their asses on spikes by the time we're through," he turned back to look at Gavin for a moment, vulnerable and hurt. The sneer on the young King's face was the last thing Gavin saw before he slammed the chamber door shut. 

Gavin allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. If Ryan and Ray had returned then that meant the trip might have been successful. He allowed himself to think of a life in which Michael would be a gentle monarch, the same kind as his father. He let his thoughts continue to wander as he set off to find Jack and deliver the news to him.

...

It was nothing short of a miracle that Ray and Ryan had returned to Mogar's kingdom with Geoff Ramsey by their side. If he was being honest, Ryan had already taken a liking to the tattooed advisor. He made the trip back extremely entertaining, starting from poking fun at Ray, who climbed behind Ryan on his horse, cheeks tinged bright scarlet. He also had a lot of stories to tell, about his time in the army, about how he met Burnie, and even a little was shared about the many battle scars and scratches that he had acquired in his youth.  
"So," Geoff muttered once the jagged gates came into view. "This the place? The infamous House of Bears."

Ryan simply nodded, stationing his horse and helping Ray off.

"The one and only," Ray answered, albeit a bit sarcastically. He watched as Geoff's tired, yet strangely alert blue eyes scanned the gates. His gaze stopped on the spikes coming from the castle's main garden, the ones which held the heads of Michael's opposers. Every hint of a smile left the older gentleman's face, and the lines in his forehead tilted downward in what seemed like anger. 

"The rumors are true then," he said, mostly to himself.

"Unfortunately," Ryan sighed, grabbing Geoff gently by the arm and leading him towards the entrance. "Come on. He must know that something's up."

And it was true. King Mogar was waiting for his runaway advisors in the town square, sitting upon a velvet chair laced with gold. It was hard to read his expression, although one could assume it was one of anger. Geoff took an opportunity to finally square the kid up.

By the way he sat, it was already clear to see how much of a tyrant he was. Leant back, hand resting beneath his chin in a somewhat condescending way. He had his legs wide open with his feet glued to the ground, and the hand that was not under his chin was brushing against the hilt of his sheathed sword. Geoff scoffed, the lad seemed like he was prepared to stand up and fight but Geoff doubted he even knew how to use the weapon. 

Michael took notice to Geoff immediately. The new presence was definitely a shock to the King, and both Ray and Ryan could see the confusion in his face.

"You leave my kingdom without permission and return with an uninvited guest? It's like you're begging to be punished," Michael said, ice dripping from his words.

Ryan could feel Ray, young and scared shitless at being on the receiving end of Michael's wrath, stiffen besides him. He couldn't remember a time when Michael had ever physically hurt Ray the way he'd physically hurt Ryan. The difference between Ray and Ryan was that Ryan was a general of an army and an expert on handling pain, while Ray was freshly in his 20s and an expert on rose gardens. 

On the other side of him, Ryan could see Geoff stand up straighter, see his eyes narrow and mouth tighten to a thin line. 

"My Liege," Ryan began, since it seemed like he was the only one willing to speak, "This is Geoff Ramsey, a guest from the Burns Kingdom."

At his introduction, Geoff gave the king a sarcastic little wave. The angry twitch in Michael's eyebrow was apparent to all present.

"And what the fuck is he doing here? I didn't invite him," the King spat. Geoff watched as the hand around Michael's sword began to tighten, a warning. He rolled his eyes, and, unable to take it anymore, stepped forward.

"Pardon me, King Mogar, but I have to interject. You do realize it's possible for people to come into a kingdom without being invited, right? I may not have been invited by your holiness, but these gentlemen right here have kindly asked for my help. And I can understand why they were so desperate," he said, unfazed by the look in Michael's amber eyes, the eyes that most likely terrorized his people. 

"Help?" Michael asked, mostly to his advisors, but Geoff was on a roll.

"Yeah. To whip your ass into shape."

"Do you know who you're speaking to?"

"I do, in fact. I am speaking to Michael Jones," an audible gasp is heard from those who have gathered to watch the interaction. No one ever dared to call him Michael in public, some people had even forgotten that Michael and Mogar were the same people. "I am speaking to an orphan, a child. I am speaking to a tyrant, a little boy who does not know how to lead a kingdom.

You're in luck, though. I'm going to teach you, the snot nosed orphan kid, how to be a man," he says it all with an authoritative flair to his voice, and the speech is followed by complete silence. From somewhere behind him, Geoff heard Ray mutter a 'holy shit' under his breath.

It takes all of five seconds before Michael finally responds. In all his years in knowing him, Ryan has never seen the king look so angry. 

"Gather the people," Michael turned to his servants. "Make sure everyone is here. A duel will be taking place. I want them to see this stranger die."

And everyone but Geoff looked afraid.  
_________________________

Despite the constant wary gazes, tremulous stares, and pitying looks, Geoff was determined to see this duel through. If he was going to really knock this kid into King material then he would play his games. Just for now. 

 

A rusted sword was shoved into his chest by some insignificant house servant. The man didn’t even say a word as he approached, nor did he look him in the eyes as he handed him it.  
The sword had definitely seen better days: Blood stains from old foes, cracks from distant battles, unsharpened and uncared for. He almost wanted to cringe at it’s poor treatment. 

Mogar stood on the other side of the room, strapping on armour that had an impressive gleam to it. Geoff wondered briefly how he planned to fight with a velvet cloak clipped to his shoulders but then it occurred to him that the boy had probably never fought a real battle in his life. Swinging a sword to a chopping block took no real skill.  
He affixed an unimpressed, slightly accusatory gaze to the supposed ‘King’ across from him. Burns owed him a drink after all this. 

When a squire came to collect the two of them a moment later, Geoff simply leaned against the wall. “Oh, after you, my liege.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.  
Mogar paid no such mind and flashed a cocky smile, baring a pointed tooth to him. 

It took only a minute for Geoff to be shoved into the House’s arena. He stared up at the stone laid seating where every single pair of eyes in the kingdom stared down upon him. On almost every surface was the distinctive golden crest of the House of Bears, laid on dark blue silk. Once it had been a symbol of great prosperity; Now it struck fear into all that gazed upon it. 

The four advisors each stood atop of the grey stone platform with varying degrees of distress on their features. This man was their last hope, and the next few moments may be his last.  
Their Lord bore no such distress, however. Or, at least, he didn’t show it. He seemed completely at ease as he slowly, almostly tantalisingly so, pulled his immaculate sword from an equally immaculate scabbard.  
Geoff simply raised an eyebrow as Michael smirked. The crowd cheered as he straightened his back.  
He swung the sword around in a circle twice before crossing over and repeating the action on his other side, slicing through the air. 

Geoff remained completely nonchalant throughout the entire display. He could feel everybody in the audience hold their breath (even the general) as the Lord stalked closer to him, repeating the slicing actions again and again.  
As if they held some kind of threat to him.  
He scoffed at the thought. 

The two of them stepped onto the tiled arena, gazes interlocked. Geoff’s complete ease struck a hint of agitation inside Michael but that feeling was quickly swept away by pride and arrogance. 

“I’ll go easy on you... To strike down the elderly in my own arena would be honourless.” He sneered as they circled each other. 

“You’re speaking of honour now?” Geoff repeated, “You don’t know the meaning of the word, kid.” 

Michael lunged and snagged at the worn leather armour that protected Geoff’s chest. He was quick to deflect. A simple snap of his wrist to push against his blade and Michael’s balance was completely thrown off. He didn’t wait for him to recover - instead, he acted quickly, and swung his fist to the King’s jaw. 

The sound of Michael’s sword clattering away from him was harsh as a hush fell over the arena. 

He could feel colour pool into his cheeks as a single gasp rang out. Their King had been so easily disarmed? He would have Ryan find out who that was and slit their throat later. 

“Pick it up. Try again.” Geoff said bluntly, as if he were bored with the entire duel. 

And he did. Oh, how he tried. Each and every time he got up, Geoff would slice, punch and kick him back down again with that same stoic look on his face.

Sweat dripped down the slide of his face. He reached up and unclasped his cloak so the luxurious material pooled around his feet.  
He couldn’t let this bastard make a fool of him in front of his kingdom. They would never do as he wanted. They would never follow him ever again.  
Michael grit his teeth and lunged again, throwing himself forward with a cry. The clash of the iron swords rang out and bounced off the stone.

Despite his best efforts, not one of his attacks got through Ramsey’s blockade. He tried again and again. Advance after advance.  
Nothing.  
Nothing would touch him. 

His elbow smashed into the young King’s face and sent him to the ground again. Michael felt a familiar tang well up in his mouth. He spat. The blood hit the tile. Blood was splattered around him already from the shallow cuts across his body. He’d lost count of the number of times he had hit the floor now. 

“We finished here?” Geoff dawled with a sigh as he rolled back his shoulders. 

“We’re not finished until you’re on your ass!” Michael yelled with fists balled. His usual pale pallor was flushed red, both with his efforts and his embarrassment. 

In a flurry of movement, Geoff charged forward, avoided every swing of his sword, and knocked Michael onto the ground once again. He placed a foot on his chest and the tip of the sword to his throat. 

“We’re finished.” 

The silence was almost painful. Nobody even dared to utter a word. Even the council was stunned. 

After an excruciatingly long pause, Jack cleared his throat. “It seems as though we are to welcome a new member to the council. Geoff Ramsey, of House Burns, shall join the House of Bears. Effective immediately. Thank you all for coming, you are dismissed.”

Still no words were shared as everyone filed out of the arena.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael wasn't sure who sent for the village nurse. Michael wasn't sure about a lot of things, actually, with his face down on the rough ground. He allowed himself to look up for a moment, to see if there were any stragglers, to see if Geoff had stuck around to see the aftermath of his victory. Bruised, amber eyes scanned the arena, and all he found was Caleb, the nurse he vaguely remembered threatening to castrate after not being gentle with his monthly check ups. Michael winced as Caleb drew closer. Winced, he never fucking winced, since when did he wince? In an attempt to cover himself, the young king made a show of spitting out more blood.  
"Are you going to stare at me or are you going to assist your King?" He demanded, and it was hard to sound threatening when you could barely stand on your own two feet, but Michael would be damned if he didn't try. 

Caleb nodded curtly, reached down and wrapped Michael's arm around his own neck. It was strange, Michael had always considered Caleb to be weak, mostly because the boy always seemed to be the most fragile creature in the kingdom. He was always treating his own wounds, his own broken bones, and Michael teased him, spat cruel words in his direction, yet here they were now. Michael, broken in every sense of the word, and Caleb, the strong and intact.

"Nurse Denecour?" 

Caleb jumped at the hoarse voice, even halted his movements in fear that he had done something wrong.

"Yes, My Lord?"

Michael opened his mouth, could still taste the blood in his teeth. What had he meant to say? It escaped him. What was there to say? How could he even begin?

"Never mind. Carry on."

...

Michael never liked visiting the Nurse's tent. His injuries would range from menial to serious, but he'd always force the Nurse to come to the castle. He supposed there was no choice now.

"I'm going to dress your wounds now, my Liege. Pardon me for the--" Michael silenced Caleb with a look, stern and cold.

"Just fix me," he said, voice low and mind now distant.

It happened sometimes, randomly, when he was least expecting it. Memories. Triggered by whatever he happened to be doing. As Caleb turned away to search for alcohol, Michael remembered how his mother used to dress his wounds. 

She'd hum a song, slow and sweet, yet reaching max volumes in Michael's heart. With tears in his eyes, he'd sit silently and watch his mother apply a moist cloth to whatever open wound he had acquired playing in the garden. He was always afraid to speak, or even sniffle, because if he did, he'd miss a single second of his mother's dulcet tones. And she'd always finish it off by wrapping bright gauze around the disinfected wound before she placed a small kiss to the area. 

"Go on," she'd say, "Go show the other children how much of a brave warrior you've been today!"

He was brought back to reality, cruel, sick reality when Caleb began dabbing alcohol into the open cuts, some deeper than others. 

Michael wished distantly that his mother was there, if only for a moment, to hold his hand. 

...

"He's late," Gavin announced, probably for the fifth time that minute, and God, was Geoff glad he didn't have to spend the long journey to this Kingdom with that boy.

"He's probably just getting dressed. Still," Jack responded. His leg began to bounce a bit. Anxiousness, Geoff noted. 

He glanced around the table. He saw nothing but worried faces and nervous postures. It could have been funny, but given that they were waiting on a murder hungry King that was probably broody as hell...it kind of wasn't.

"You guys need to relax," Geoff said. His broken silence got everyone's eyes on him, and he shifted a bit uncomfortably.

"I'm sure he's probably still crying about the ass beating from earlier. That's natural. He hasn't killed anyone yet, so I think we're on the path to recovery," he continued sarcastically.  
"Yeah. 'Yet,'" Ray cut in dryly. "If he kills us all, it's on you."

"You asked for my help!"

"I know."

Geoff rolled his eyes and looked to Ryan, the only one who had stayed silent since the duel from earlier. Those harsh blue eyes seemed to be lost, never focusing on one thing. His hand thumped idly on the table. It was the only sound among the group as their talking ceased. Soon enough, it was joined by the sounds of leather boots slapping against stone stairs. 

Everyone seemed to freeze, stuck in time, except for Geoff, who continued to twirl his finger around the brim of his wine glass. He was definitely going to need something stronger.

Michael looked better, way better than he had been when Geoff had left him on his hands and knees, bleeding into the tiles they had dueled on. It was always strange, being so rough with a boy, hardly a man, but desperate times. He noted the limp in Michael's gait and for a moment wondered if he had been /too/ harsh. 

A servant rushed over to Michael's chair, pushed it back for him and allowed him to sit. Silence lingered on once more, thicker than before. 

And then, something strange happened. Michael, King fucking Mogar, looked up at his table guests, every single one, and he bowed his head. Saying nothing, he began to eat. 

Ray looked at Gavin, Gavin looked at Jack, and Jack's jaw had already fallen slightly open. Geoff shared a little look with the War General, finally out of his stupor, and it might have been smug, but Geoff let himself have it.

The rest of the dinner, and what followed, was uneventful. It seemed the highlight of the evening had been Michael's sudden reverence, something he apparently hadn't shown since the Great Fire. 

Geoff sighed after he was escorted to his room, finally able to be alone after such a long day. It seemed like ages ago really, since he'd last been in within Burns' kingdom. He wasn't sure if he was going to hug his King when he got back, or strangle him. 

He had been in the middle of deciding how he could kill Burnie and maybe get away with it before there were a few small raps on his door. 

"Can't catch a break, can I?" Geoff muttered to himself before pulling the door open.

General Haywood stood before him, chin raised high as usual, but he seemed just as exhausted as Geoff was. He offered the General a smile and let him in.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of having your lovely ass up here after dark?" He still harbored a crooked grin but Ryan wasn't laughing. Only cocked a judgmental brow at him and made him feel like a four year old. 

"Okay, Mr. All Business, what do you want?" Geoff grumbled, falling back on his mattress and staring at the ceiling instead of Ryan. 

"I just wanted to thank you. What you did, even though it might've been unorthodox, worked. We're all grateful for that," Ryan said, but his words trailed off a bit. Geoff could almost hear him starting and restarting sentences in his head.

"It's what I'm here for. Now, what's on your mind?" Geoff prompted, sitting up and giving Ryan his own look of confusion.

"What...what exactly are your plans with Michael?" He asked, and Geoff had never seen one man fidget so much, holy Hell. He took a deep breath, however, stood up and joined Ryan where he had wandered near the window.

"When Burnie had just been crowned, right after he put his ass in that cool chair of his, he thought it would be a good idea to visit a kingdom he'd never been to before. The central kingdom in the East or--" 

"The Land of Dust. Yes, I know the history. I fail to see the relevance to the question," Ryan dead panned, totally stealing Geoff's thunder with his sudden lack of patience. 

He glared at the younger man before turning to look out his quatre’s window as he continued.

"Then you must know, that the ruler of the Dust was just as ruthless as Michael. If not more. I mean, shit, dude, I've never seen such fear in the eyes of children. Not even the afraid of monsters in the dark. No, this was real fear in their eyes. They knew that the imaginary shit was real for them," all traces of jokes were gone, Ryan could tell that much. 

"I never want to see that look on a person's face ever again. So, what I plan on doing with Michael shouldn't concern you. Just know, I'll make sure it gets done," Geoff wasn't looking at him anymore. Instead, his gaze has wandered to the window, toward the sky, to the East. His face was unreadable, and Ryan wasn't sure if Geoff was angry or not.

Still, he bowed his head, face a bit flushed from Geoff's harsh words. 

"Very well. Thank you for your time, Sir Ramsey."

Geoff pulled away from his staring contest with the stars for a moment, a grin breaking his face once again.   
"Sir?" He repeated, holding back mature giggles.

"Goodnight. Dick." Ryan muttered, but returned Geoff's smile all the same.   
...

It was early. Way too early. And maybe Michael would've had a problem with that if he had slept. He didn't. Not a single wink. His head throbbed and his ribs hurt and his mind was in shambles. It felt as if something was broken, and it wasn't his bones. 

Geoff Ramsey had done something to him. Something more than kick him around. Geoff got him thinking. Michael rarely thought, rarely had trouble making decisions, but now? 

He continued to pace, up and down up and down, outside of Geoff's chamber door. He had stopped about four times to knock, but lost the heart to half way through.

"Come on," Michael said to himself through gritted teeth, "You're a fucking warrior King. Just knock. Just..."

Whoosh.

The door had been opened. 

Michael turned, finally face to face with Ramsey for the first time since the fight. He looked strangely vulnerable. Tired eyes, bright and blue, like Ryan's but...deeper? More mysterious. Fierce. Like the flame of a hardworking blacksmith. He leant himself against the doorframe, undoubtedly surprised at Michael's appearance. And so early, awake even before the most punctual servants had risen. 

Michael felt himself grow tense, and he realized they had just been staring at each other for who knows how long. Geoff didn't blink. 

"I...I,"   
Ramsey raised two curious brows, clearly amused at his poor attempt at speech. He'd only know the man for a few hours, and half of that time was being spent being beaten by his elder, but fuck if Michael wasn't already sick of that condescending look Ramsey seemed to have been born with. He stood up straighter, deepened the pitch of his voice before he opened his mouth.

"Welcome to the kingdom, Sir Ramsey," and before he could regret it, he was down the hall and far, far away from the pleasantly surprised look on Ramsey's face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive my typo sins in the chapter (if you find any) I was so excited to have it done that I just wanted it up asap rip

The next day Michael rose with a start as Geoff yanked his curtain open, revealing ostentatiously large windows. Sunlight streamed unceremoniously into the King’s bedroom and awoke him with a groan.  
It took him only a moment to figure out who would dare to wake him in such a manner.

“Ramsey.... What do you call this hour?” His voice was practically a strained croak. He had a nasty habit of sleeping with his mouth open. (Not as nasty as casual beheadings, but it was still pretty bad.)

Geoff drank in his appearance. His red curls were untamed in their usual fashion, dare he say, even more so after a night of tossing and turning, and despite Michael’s eyelids drooping, he could still clearly see his eyes were a comforting brown; Like holding a glass of whiskey up to soft evening light.  
The boy’s disheveled appearance made Geoff’s lips flicker into what could almost be described as a smirk. “Late. Let’s go.”

Michael stretched to try and rid himself of the sleep lingering at his consciousness. The display of the King made something twinge in the advisor’s chest, yet he couldn’t quite place what that something was.  
Something about seeing a bloodthirsty monarch for what he truly was: A young boy. A normal, young boy, that didn’t like waking up early any more than the boys in the villages past the castle walls.  
He quickly dismissed it as some sort of fatherly instinct. 

“Go... where?” Michael asked carefully as he stood from his silk sheets. He wasn’t too enthusiastic to go anywhere with this man that handed him his ass any time soon. His wounds may have healed but his pride was still cut open.

Geoff strode over to the lavish dresser across from Michael’s even more lavish four-poster bed and yanked it open. He swore, half of the kingdom’s gold supply must have gone into decorating. It was a wonder how the House of Bears remained so wealthy.  
“Here, take your fancy leather pants and I’ll see you in exactly five minutes at the stables.” He instructed with all the authority of a teacher and then threw the pants at him. 

“Where are we going?!” Michael yelled indignantly as the elder man slammed the heavy wooden door behind him. He pouted with his brows furrowed as he clutched the leather breeches. He’d have Jack clear his schedule. 

…

“I told you five minutes.” Geoff said without turning around, still tacking up his own horse.

“You readied my horse for me.”  
“I knew you would be late.”

Michael made a somewhat irritated sound in the back of his throat before hoisting himself up onto his horse. “So.... You gonna divulge where you’re taking me?” 

Geoff had that smug gleam in his eyes again. “To see the fruits of your labour.” The confused look that danced in the King’s eye brought him a strange amount of joy.

“Wait, what?” 

He joined Michael on top of his own steed, and the pair began to ride out the south gate.

“We’re going to the southern district.” The way Michael’s mouth fell open was almost comical.  
“Without any guards?!” He exclaimed, visibly panicked at the thought.  
“I was brought here to fix what you broke, Michael.” Geoff began, “You have to tr-”

“What did you call me?” The ice in Michael’s tone brought him to a hault. The two of them both stopped on the forest path. If they hadn’t both been mounted, he imagined that Michael would have his hand around his throat.  
“I called you by your name, Michael.” 

The boy in question flushed scarlet, his hands fisting up in his reins. “You may not address your King in such a manner.” The formality of his tone cut like a knife.  
“I will address you however I want. You’re not my King, kid.”  
“While you are a part of my house, on my council, I am your king. And you will address me however I see fit!” He fumed, his jaw locked and eyes narrowed. The honey gold from earlier that morning was now a brazen amber. It was easy to see how such a baby-faced monarch was so feared. 

“I’m not going to call you Mogar.” Geoff said firmly, his gaze unwavering. “Neither is the rest of the council. Or your people. You’re going to be addressed by your real name from now on.” The calm of his tone would have soothed Michael if he weren’t so overcome with rage.

Michael didn’t look up for a long time. Geoff noted his locked jaw and white knuckles.  
After a moment, he spoke up again. “Do you want to be remembered as Mogar the terrible, or Michael the great?”

The colour seemed to drain from his face, leaving his usual complexion in it’s place.  
“What do they call my father?” The thunder was removed from his tone. In it’s place was meekness- Almost childlike. 

Geoff’s hard gaze softened as Michael looked at him with wide eyes. 

“The brave.”

Michael seemed to mull this over for a while.  
“Alright.” He said quietly. His eyes dragged back up to the old warrior’s face. “Make me a better king, Geoff.”

…

The filthy stones of the southern district was the first sign of poverty that greeted the pair. One could only guess at their original colour. That was if there were any stones laid down at all. Most were broken, leaving their horses to hobble along on the uneven path. 

“I’m not sure about this.” Michael’s voice was tremulous; Understandably so. The poorest district of his kingdom was also the most hostile. His people were angry; Also understandably so. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill him given the chance.

“Don’t worry, if anything breaks out, I’ve got you covered.”

“That’s really not that reassuring.”

“Shut up. Go be a decent human being.”

…

The building in front of Michael almost felt like some sort of practical joke. There was no way such a haphazard stack of wood could actually be classed as a building. It looked ready to topple over. The opposite building was practically at his back. He doubted that a man the size of Jack or Ryan would be able to fit down the street. 

The surrounding sounds did nothing to quell the young king’s nerves: The constant shouting, the crying of newborns, the jangling of wheels against uneven stone, the yapping of starving dogs. He could feel the need to scream well up inside him. 

Geoff’s hand on his shoulder brought a surprising amount of ease to his mind.  
“What is this?” Michael asked over the noise.  
The only answer he received was a knowing look and a push towards the door. 

He knocked on the door three times in quick succession. Instantly there was a shout. “Ey! If you still think you’re gettin’ in ‘ere then you can stick ya-” A dark haired woman with a young child on her hips yanked the door open to find a confused Michael and a bemused Geoff. Her gasp and stagger backwards was so dramatic that it seemed staged. “Your ‘ighness!” She exclaimed, jaw slacked. She attempted a clumsy curtsy, and with a toddlers kicking at her side, it was no small feat. “I- I- I ‘ad no idea you were visitin’.”  
Michael glanced over at his advisor with a raised eyebrow. He simply smiled back at him. The king slowly turned back to face the woman, unsure of how to proceed. He rarely ever actually interacted with his people.  
“Oh, uh, well… It’s alright, madam. I’m here to visit this…” His eyes skimmed over the building once again, “fine establishment.”  
“Course!” She replied immediately, “Welcome, welcome!” She swept to the side to let the two men pass, visibly shaking. 

Children of all ages were scattered about the room. The youngest he saw were newborns, wrapped in blankets; Some screaming, some sleeping. The oldest were a handful of teenagers, probably not much younger than himself. Recognition flashed in their eyes, and each of them clammed up, dropped what they were doing and stared straight at him, as if he were from another planet. One boy bowed stiffly and cleared his throat loudly to get his peers to copy him. The effect was strange. It were as if a wave rippled through the room. Each child bowed as rigidly as the next until there wasn’t a single person in the room that was stood upright. He faintly wondered if it was some sort of protocol. 

“An orphanage?” Michael muttered to Geoff as he came to his side. He nodded once and turned his gaze back to the bowing children.  
“You may rise.” The king said. “Thank you.” He added quickly. Now the tension on their faces was visible. He wasn’t at all sure what he was doing here. “Ah, um, resume your daily business. I’m just here to visit.” Still nobody moved. “I’m not here to harm anyone.” The sigh of relief was like a slap of his face. 

Everyone began to move again. Some returned to their toys and others began to talk again, hushed whispers that probably involved him. He turned to the woman. “Is it alright if I speak to some of the kids?” He didn’t know why, but that felt like the right thing to do.  
The woman nodded in reply, a small smile on her face instead of the surprised worry she wore moments earlier. Everyone kept giving him that smile. Did they know something he didn’t?

Michael slowly approached a young, blonde boy, no much older than six, and sat down across from him on the worn wooden floor. The boy blinked once and looked up at Michael. “Nice hat.” He chirped.  
“Thank you.” He found a soft smile creep onto his lips without his permission. He took off his crown and turned it over in his hands. “It’s pretty cool, right?”  
“Yeah! What’s it made of?” The boy asked with wide eyes.  
Michael placed the crown back onto his head. “Gold. It’s kinda heavy.”  
“Why?” He tilted his head almost comically.  
“Why what?”  
“Why is it heavy?”  
“Oh… Um… Well… I don’t actually know.”

Geoff has stationed himself against a near-by wall. The boy had crawled into Michael’s lap to get a better look at the crown on his head and to feel the furs around his neck. He had almost stepped in, but then he saw how Michael was laughing. He hadn’t actually seen him laugh during his time with him. It was almost infectious. Almost. 

Soon after, all the children had gathered around their king as they all sat on the floor. He told grand stories of grand battles. Perhaps in another life he was a bard, because he really was quite good at it. His ease with children baffled Geoff.  
“My dad died in that battle, y’know.” A girl mumbled. Michael stilled.  
“Oh?” He moved to kneel in front of her.  
“Yeah. Sometimes I get really scared ‘bout it. Nightmares and stuff.”  
Determination settled onto Michael’s features. He pulled at the golden ring around his finger, and then held it up to the young girl. “Do you know what this crest is?” He asked her quietly. The ring in question has the sigil of his house, the House of Bears, on it- A side-ways view of a bear roaring.  
“Our house’s symbol-thing.”  
“That’s right, and do you know why our sigil is a bear?”  
“No, ser.”  
“Because bears are the bravest creatures in their entire forest.” He held the ring out to her in his palm. “Take this, so when you get scared, you can be reminded, that you’re father was the bravest man on that battlefield. And so are you.”  
“Oh, I couldn’t, ser. I’m not brave.”  
He grinned at her. “You’re a part of the House of Bears, how could you not be?”  
She seemed to mull this over for a moment before she gingerly took the ring from his palm and clutched it in her fist. “I’ll take good care of it ser.”  
“I’m sure you will.”

And in that moment, he decided he was going to take good care of them too.


	5. Chapter 5

"How're you feeling?"

It was the first full on question Geoff had directed at Michael since they left the orphanage. The silence that had fallen between them wasn't awkward, or strained like it might've been before, Geoff just didn't have the heart to break the boy from his thoughts. Geoff had watched several degrees of happiness flutter across Michael's face in the form of a smile at some memory. It was interesting to watch and Geoff couldn't take his eyes off of him. In fact, the only reason why he spoke up was because Michael had caught him, and Geoff had tried to cover his tracks.

"Truthfully? I feel...good. Happy. Blissful, actually," he answered, running his hand over his horse absentmindedly. "But...I never knew..."

His voice trailed off, and Geoff's gaze fell on him again, prompting him to go on.

"I never knew how these people have been living. I mean, I knew, but I didn't care. Did you see the kids in there? They were filthy. Wearing nothing but old rags..."

He stopped speaking again, and this time Geoff let him sit in silence. Geoff was well aware that taking Michael to the poorer parts of his kingdom would awaken something within him. He knew that the cold exterior would melt away once Michael looked into the eyes of a poor orphan child. Geoff wondered if the young king saw some of himself in the children that had surrounded him. He had a strong feeling that he did. 

"Can you do me a favor though, Geoff?" Michael asked once they were nearing the castle walls. 

Geoff looked over at him, surprised to see the warmness swimming through the irises. 

"Don't tell the council I was so soft," he said with a smile, a genuine one, a genuine display of affection directed at Geoff. He almost couldn't believe it. And the shock of seeing small teeth peeking out of his grin was almost enough to get Geoff sputtering. But he recovered, albeit lamely.

"No can do, kid. The entire castle's gonna be buzzing about how you're about as soft as a marshmallow's ass," he replied, and although Michael shot him a glare, it was clear that every hint of malice was free from his stare.  
\---

There were a few tentative knocks at his bedroom door later that night. Michael rarely got visitors, only servants and the like, but he was fairly certain most of them had gone to bed after they had dressed him. 

"Who is it?" He called out, harsh, but only a little. It was late, after all.

"Jack, my King," came the response, and Michael quickly crossed the floor to open the door for his advisor. He wasn't sure why he was so eager to see Jack, he just chalked it off to wanting some company.

"This is a surprise," Michael said as he let Jack in. He looked a bit surprised himself at the gesture, everyone always looked so surprised these days, but shrugged.

"I just wanted to pay you a visit. Ramsey told me of your journey today," he said, and Michael rolled his eyes. Of course Geoff would tell them.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of--"

"I'm not ashamed," Michael snapped.

Jack raised his hands, a universal sign of no ill intent.

"I didn't come here to argue, M-Michael," he stammered on the pronunciation of the name, but only because it had been so long since he had said it to Michael's face.

"So why did you come?"

Jack sighed, joined Michael who had been conversing from the edge of his bed.

"I go to that orphanage every so often. I try to volunteer there when I'm not busy here. The children are wonderful, aren't they?" Jack's brown eyes met Michael's, and the warm smile on Jack's lips was a bit contagious.

"Y-Yeah. Especially this one young girl...father died in the war..." the name was on the tip of Michael's tongue, but Jack was quicker.

"Ah, young Braeden?" Jack guessed, and Michael nodded eagerly.

"Yes, Braeden! I gave her the one of my rings, one that bore the insignia of our house," Michael said, much to Jack's surprise. It was this confession that caused Jack to ask something he never thought he'd ask his King.

"If you had such a good time, my Lord, would it be too much to ask if you joined me next time I visit? I'm sure the children will be glad to see you return," he offered, voice laced with a certain sort of hope he hadn't used unless he was trying to talk Michael /out/ of doing something rash. 

Michael was saying yes even before he had thought about it, but he figured that even if he had taken a moment to think about it, he still would've agreed. He actually couldn't wait to go back to the orphanage. Maybe he'd bring a few more presents for the children. 

"Wonderful!" Jack stood up then, holding his hand out for Michael to shake. He did, firm and warm. Familiar, almost.

"Thank you so much, Michael. Sorry to have disturbed you."

Michael waved him off.

"It's no trouble. Good night, Jack," Michael offered him one last smile before he left. Jack bowed, and left Michael alone with his thoughts.  
\---

"I'm not surprised you don't understand! You're the /agricultural/ advisor. Not the master of fuckin' coin."

It was way too early for this, Geoff decided as he let his head fall into his hands. It was supposed to be a meeting, one simple meeting among the advisors and their King. But apparently Joel, the oh so lovely master of coin (as he LOVED to remind them), was hell bent on making it the most prolonged meeting of their lives. And if he was being honest, Ray wasn't helping their cause either.

"I may be the agricultural advisor, but I know when something sounds like a pile of shit. Striking up another trading relation wouldn't help us, it would just sink us lower into debt," Ray barked back with just as much ferocity as Joel had, something Geoff hadn't seen much of in the kid.

"Like I said, you just wouldn't know. As I was saying, My Lord--"

"Why wouldn't he know?" Michael spoke up from his spot at the table, causing everyone to look up at his sudden interruption. He didn't look malevolent, in fact, if the eyebrow he was raising was anything to go by, he seemed more amused.

"Because, My King, he has been trained to know the ins and outs of agriculture. Not economics, or finance. Plus, he is just a child and--" again, Michael interrupted Joel's ramblings.

"A child? He is only two years my junior. That would imply that you think me to be a child as well. Is that what you think of me? You think I'm a child?" 

As Joel sputtered and choked his way through a response, Ray felt something warm within him. Michael hadn't stood up for him like this, ever, especially since he had gone all murder happy. Ray couldn't even remember a time that Michael had addressed him without spitting some sort of command his way. He wasn't sure how to take it. Was Michael really beginning to change?

Ray looked at Michael, just to see, to make sure he wasn't dreaming the whole commotion up. Michael was already looking at him, face broken by a mischievous smirk. He winked at Ray once their eyes met, and Ray felt himself start to smile as well.

Something was definitely different. His gaze drifted to Geoff soon after, not surprised to see their new advisor with his face in his hands. Ray silently thanked the gods for bestowing Geoff upon them.  
\---

Michael was a bit surprised to find Gavin asleep when he snuck his way into his chambers. He had the same room they had when they were kids, and Michael knew where Gavin hid the spare key when he locked his door. Being that it was locked, Michael guessed Gavin didn't want to be bothered, but that didn't stop him from going in anyway.

Gavin had always been a light sleeper, and jumped awake when he heard the slightest commotion at his door. He had a knife under his pillow, a small weapon, and aimed it at whoever had tried to intrude.

He didn't register it was Michael until his eyes adjusted to the dimness of his room. Gavin dropped the knife immediately, jerked his hand away as if it had touched a scorching flame.

"Mic--My Lord, I..." Gavin began, he sputtered a lot, and those were the only intelligible phrases Michael could make out. 

"Shh. It's okay. It's my fault anyway. I shouldn't have startled you, my apologies."

Gavin stopped speaking. He took a moment to look around the room. To look at Michael. He even pinched himself to make sure that he had heard that right, and nope, he wasn't dreaming. 

"Try not to act too surprised," Michael chuckled before joining Gavin on his bed. 

The younger lad realized as Michael sat down that he had brought with him a rectangular case. His eyes raked the thing, noting the make of the leather and wondered what could be inside.

"So Gav," his heart warmed at the sound of his old nickname, the one he hadn't heard in Michael's voice for years. "You like archery, don't you?"

It was a rhetorical question, obviously. Gavin, although clumsy, was one of the most talented archers in the kingdom. He even bested some of the officers in General Haywood's army. In fact, Ryan had come to him many times offering him a position in the army but each time Gavin refused. He couldn't stand the thought of going to war, the very thing that had killed his parents. 

"I'm quite fond of it, yes," Gavin said carefully, not allowing himself to drop his guard just yet.

"Good," and, wow, Gavin hadn't seen Michael smile like that in months. It was a different kind of smile than the one he wore when he was watching one of his daily executions. He handed Gavin the case, seemingly eager to see the young boy open it.

Gavin clicked open the case, and his reaction was almost comical. It was a new longbow, made of the finest maple wood that Gavin had ever seen. He could almost see himself in the wood. His initials were carved in it, G.D.F, in neat cursive, handwriting that he recognized immediately.

"You...you made this for me?" Gavin asked incredulously, taking the bow in his hands and turning it over.

"I had some help, but yeah. For the most part. The arrows are beneath the--"

He was interrupted by a sudden embrace. Gavin had thrown his arms around his King, something he hadn't done since they were children. Gavin was warm, familiar. Just as Jack's handshake had been. It caught Michael off guard, but after a few moments, he awkwardly snaked his arms around Gavin as well.

"Thank you, Michael."

It was a whisper, maybe less, but Michael heard it all the same. He squeezed Gavin's lanky frame a bit tighter instead of responding.  
\----

"I want to spar with you, if you don't mind."

Ryan had been alone, polishing his iron sword when Michael wandered into one of the gardens. He knew Ryan had to be in at least one of them. 

He looked at Michael with a raised brow, something he always did when he was surprised.

"Are you sure? Have your wounds from--"

"Ah, that was weeks ago, Ryan. C'mon, I'm getting rusty," Michael unsheathed his own sword, and Ryan was almost shocked to see that the diamond weapon had been replaced with simple iron, like his. "For old times sake?"

Ryan's heart tugged at those words. He remembered teaching Michael how to fight when the boy had been younger, happier, not an orphan. It was endearing to watch him fall and get back up again, eager to try once more.

"As you wish," Ryan replied as he stood. 

Michael stood in fighting position, and even by that alone Ryan could tell it had been awhile.

"Put your right foot in front of your left...and raise your elbow a bit," Ryan commented. His pedagogical nature never rested. Instead of complaining, and stating that his method was best like he usually did, Michael nodded and fixed his position. 

"Better?" Michael asked, genuine, not bitter and sarcastic. 

"Y-Yes. Now, begin."

Michael lunged at him first, he was always eager like that, and Ryan was easily able to dodge his attack. 

"Don't be so reckless," he said as he continued to block his attacks. "Be more calculated."

He accentuated this by swiping his foot by Michael's feet. He stumbled, but didn't fall. Ryan watched as he took a moment to collect himself, closing his eyes and breathing deep. When he opened them, he shot Ryan a quick smile before ducking down below Ryan's field of vision. He was definitely quick, and Ryan didn't have to chance to turn around before he felt a boot on his back. Michael kicked him with enough force to bring him down.

The iron sword was at Ryan's neck before he could stand, and for a moment, he thought that maybe nothing had changed about Michael at all. For one horrifying moment, he realized Mogar would never die. But then, in the same instant, Michael was laughing, a delightful, breathy giggle, at his feat.

"Fucking yes! I haven't been able to take you down, like ever! Fuck you, Ryan!" He tossed his sword to the ground before giggling some more, reminding the older general of a young child despite the profanity.

"Lucky break," Ryan muttered from the ground, unable to keep the smile off his face either. Michael stopped laughing to scoff before reaching down to help Ryan up.

"Rematch then. Tomorrow at noon?" Michael asked, brown eyes staring up at Ryan the same way he would when he was 8.

"Of course, My Liege."  
\--- 

Geoff couldn't sleep. He wasn't sure what it was, but he had spent the majority of the night tossing and turning and finally, he gave up and took to staring at the ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes, a certain curly haired boy would flash behind the lids, causing him to open them again. 

He was certain that the feelings he harboured for Michael were a result of spending so much time with him. It was still strange, though. He had spent just as much time with Burnie, and he had never lost sleep over that King. What was it about Michael that caused his mind to race?

There was a knock at his door then, a few gentle raps, and Geoff was grateful. He hoped it was Jack, maybe they could sneak out to a tavern and down a few drinks till the sun came up. Opening the door. Geoff was shocked to see that the person standing on the other side was definitely not Jack.

Michael stood there with hands clasped behind his back, clad in nothing more than the simple pajamas he had started wearing. A cotton shirt and bottoms made of the same material. Without the velvet cape and golden crown, Michael looked like any other boy within the kingdom. 

"Couldn't sleep," Michael said before letting himself into Geoff's room. The older man rolled his eyes but closed the door, turning to see Michael looking quite awkward in the middle of his room.

"So you came to me?"

"Everyone else was asleep."

"So was I."

"No, you weren't."

Geoff didn't have it in him to lie, not when he was so tired, so he just shrugged it off. 

"What's your deal then? Too cold in your room?" He teased, but Michael didn't seem to be in the mood.

"Nightmares," he answered simply. 

Geoff looked at him, all joviality drained from his demeanour as he watched Michael fall apart.

"I thought they had went away. I didn't have them when I was more...y'know. Ruthless. I guess that's why I did the things I did. To keep the fucking nightmares away," his voice wavered a bit and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"In every one, every single fucking one, I'm watching from outside their room. I'm watching the fire spread through the castle, toward them. And they're sleeping. And I'm yelling, screaming for them to wake up, to get the fuck outta there but it never works. The fire gets to them. They start screaming, God, the screams. And then I wake up. Usually, I'm screaming too. But I learned to keep my mouth shut when people stopped coming to check on me," the tears fell freely down Michael's face now, and he didn't bother wiping at them. Geoff knew exactly who "they" were, and wasn't really sure what to do.

"Why did the servants stop checking on you?" seemed to be the only question he could muster up the courage to ask.

"Because I started killing people. Destroying villages. Having bloody battles in the fucking town square and making people watch," he was yelling now, yelling and crying and shaking.

Geoff might not have been sure what to do, but something he had no control over brought him to Michael. He wrapped his arms around him and allowed the king to sob into his shoulder. It was the most painful sound he had ever heard, and Geoff had heard his fair share of heart breaking noises. The sound of Michael bawling his eyes out was inching its way to number one.

"And the worst part is, they came back when you came. When I stopped being so rage happy," Michael's voice was muffled, but Geoff was able to make out the words.

"What does that mean? What are you trying to say?" 

Michael pulled away, pushed away actually, amber eyes red rimmed and shiny.

"It's your fault! Everything was good before you came, before you made everything..." Michael may have been upset, but Geoff was taken aback. He had been trying to /help/.

"Better? Is that the word you're looking for?" Geoff asked harshly.

"No...you may have made the kingdom better but you...you fucked up my head," Michael's voice lowered, as if he hadn't meant to say what he did. His eyes scanned Geoff's face, for what, Geoff had no idea.

"I'm pretty sure your head was fucked up before I got here. I can't imagine what it was like to lose your parents and--"

"That's not what I mean. That's not what I mean, Geoff," he closed his eyes then, rubbed the heels of his hands into them. Before Geoff could ask what the hell he /did/ meant by that, Michael continued.

"Why are you still here?" He asked quietly. "It worked. Your fucked up little project worked. The kingdom isn't in shambles, and getting better by the day. So why are you still here?" 

Geoff wasn't quite sure how to answer that. He knew why he was still here. He couldn't bring himself to leave. The feelings that he had developed for Michael, the ones he had called fatherly pride, were stronger than he thought. God, he couldn't say it out loud, it sounded pathetic.

"I want to see you succeed. It's not much of a fucked up little project if I don't stick around to see the results," Geoff tried to smile, always retreating to jokes to cover up his true emotions. 

Michael was still snivelling, turning over Geoff's words in his head no doubt. Slowly, Geoff pulled him into a hug once more and rubbed small circles into his back until his shuddering came to a halt. They stood like that for a long while before Geoff realized that Michael's breathing had become slow and even. 

"Michael?" Geoff whispered. He was met with a small snore in reply. 

Geoff chuckled. He had fallen asleep standing up. The kid must've been exhausted. Geoff didn't have it in him to carry Michael all the way up to his own room, so him simply placed him in his bed. He tried to accommodate the sheets around Michael's sleeping frame to make sure he was kept warm. 

Geoff sat as his desk, exhausted himself. Michael was more hurt than he let on, that much was obvious. He was also way too observant, Geoff thought distantly. 

He watched the slow rise and fall of Michael's chest; never before had he seen such a peaceful sight. And that's how Geoff fell asleep, watching Michael's chest with a dull feeling in his own that he decided to ignore.


End file.
